Some Passion, Some Compassion, Some Humor, Some Style

 

“My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.” 
Maya Angelou

My heart is heavy. My Ms. Hopkins passed away yesterday afternoon, and the weight of this loss is settling in. She was more than my Resident Council President—she was my heart. I loved her like a mother and would do anything for her. Every time she asked for something, I would sing to her—changing the lyrics of Whatever Lola Wants to Whatever Ms. Hopkins Wants, Ms. Hopkins Gets. She loved it. I loved her.

For over seven years, she has been a light in my life. Her laughter was pure joy—the kind that fills a room and stays in your soul. She carried herself with faith, patience, and kindness, always.

Yesterday, I was at work—on a Saturday, which isn’t my usual day. But I was there. As I was leaving, I noticed she had a card in the mail, so I stopped by her room. She was in bed, and when I asked how she was, she said, “I’m not feeling well.” Her hand was clammy when I touched it, and she told me she had been throwing up. I stayed with her, holding her hand, offering comfort. Her roommate had been sick earlier in the week, and I thought it was the same bug. Before I left, I told her, “I’ll see you on Monday, Ms. Hopkins. I love you.” She answered, as always, “I love you too, darling.”

An hour later, I got the call. Ms. Hopkins was gone.

I don’t know how to process this yet. I just know that I am deeply sad. But I also know that I was meant to be there yesterday—to hold her hand, to tell her I loved her one more time, to have that final moment together. Maybe that was a gift, for both of us.

I miss her already. I always will.